


An Empty Chapter

by missilekid (scorpiofrank)



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Mindless Self Indulgence, My Chemical Romance, Paramore, Pencey Prep
Genre: Black Parade Era, Cute Mr. Way, High School, M/M, Pencey Prep - Freeform, teacher!gerard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-19 23:59:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3629079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiofrank/pseuds/missilekid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Mr. Way stood there with his hand still on the light switch, biting his lip.<br/><em>Holy shit</em>, Frank thought."</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Empty Chapter

"Dude, what the fuck. I'm in team sports!" Ray cried.

" _Why_  would you pick that class, Ray?" Bob asked.

"I didn't!" he exclaimed. "They just put me in it! This is bullshit. I can't... you know, sport!"

Bob laughed. "That's not actually a verb. Frankie, what do you have?"

"Creative writing," Frank grumbled.

"What?!" Bob exclaimed.

"I'm in creative fucking writing," he repeated. "I had to switch out of chem."

Frank had never really written anything before, but since he had dropped chemistry last minute he was told his only options would be to take creative writing or sculpture instead. He decided he'd rather write than be stuck making stupid pots every day for half a year.

"That's so gay," Bob said. Frank opened his mouth to retort, upset at his misuse of the word, but decided against it.

"I'm in room 1612," he said instead.

"2514," Ray said.

"2518," Bob chimed in. "Dude!"

"Great," Frank said sarcastically. "Okay, well I should go now if I wanna make it to -", he squinted at the schedule in his hands. "- Mr. Way's class on time. I'll see you guys."

Frank waited for their goodbyes, then went down the stairs and entered the English hallway on the first floor. He passed the lively rooms, slowly filling with reunited friends and introductory chatter, until he reached the darkest classroom. He stood there confused and double-checked his schedule, but he had read it correctly. It was 1612 and he was supposedly in the right place.

He entered reluctantly and was met with the absence of noise. The students lingered around desks in the pitch darkness, shooting each other uncertain glances and wondering if they were supposed to sit down. Frank stood awkwardly by the door.

"Close your eyes!" came a voice from behind him. Suddenly, the bright lights flickered on. A few of the students groaned, complaining about their temporary blindness. Frank turned around and gasped.

Mr. Way stood there with his hand still on the light switch, biting his lip. He was dressed in a vest and a red tie with his messy jet-black hair framing his pretty, pale face. His hazel eyes seemed to have the depth of an abyss and he had the most perfectly adorable nose.  _Holy shit_ , Frank thought.

"Sorry," Mr. Way mumbled.  He went to his desk in the front and reached into a drawer, pulling out a deck of cards. "We'll let fate decide where you guys sit!" he exclaimed, passing around half of the cards and dispersing the rest, placing one on each desk. "Your desk is the one with the same number you have. If there's two desks with your number just pick one. Match 'em and if anyone's left you can sit anywhere you see an empty space."

Frank looked down at his card - the eight of spades. He sat down between a tired-looking girl with bright red hair and a boy dressed in too much neon. He placed the card he was holding on top of the matching one laying on the desk. He looked up and saw Mr. Way peering into the fish tank in the corner of the room. Frank looked around for someone he recognized but there were no familiar faces. He turned to the guy beside him and considered starting a conversation.

"What?" neon guy snapped, turning to face him.

_Never mind_ , Frank thought to himself.

Mr. Way cleared his throat and the room became quiet. "Hey everyone," he smiled. "I'm Mr. Way. I'm 22 and this is my first year teaching." He walked over to the fish tank.

"This," he said, pointing to a weird little pink dragon-like thing swimming around, "is my axolotl named Lola. You guys can feed her if you want, just let me know."

He looked around the empty room, searching for something else to point out. He sighed, finding nothing important.

"This is our classroom. The walls are empty. We're gonna have to change that. But anyways, I wanna get to know you guys! Tell me your name, grade, and uh... favorite band. Or singer, whatever you like." He scanned the students' faces. "You first!" He pointed at a girl sitting in the front.

"Hi, um, I'm Lindsey, I'm in 9th grade..."

Frank droned out the others' voices and put his head down on his desk. Mr. Way was pretty cute but it wouldn't change the fact that this class would be boring as fuck. At least it was first period - optimal for taking naps. Frank was aware of how desperately he needed to get his grades up but didn't see the point. He wasn't stupid, he was actually really fucking smart but he couldn't bring himself to study or complete all of his assignments in useless classes like environmental science, civics, geography... it would suck having to add another class, creative writing, to the list.

"I'm Hayley, I'm in 10th grade, and my favorite band is New Found Glory," said the red-haired girl. The class looked expectantly at Frank.

"Um, I'm Frank, I'm in 10th grade, and I like the Misfits." He was surprised to see Mr. Way nodding in approval.

Neon guy sighed and sat up. "I'm Gabe, I'm in 11th, and Midtown is my favorite-,"

"I thought it was Fall Out Boy," an emo kid interjected.

Gabe glared at him. He snickered.

"All right!" Mr. Way exclaimed, oblivious to the fact that Gabe never finished. "Awesome. You guys are all awesome. Now let me tell you a little about this class. I'm gonna ask you to get two notebooks by next Monday - one for your journal and the other for, well, everything else. Get two different colors! And I have, like, three thousand stickers so we can decorate them too. For this first month we're going to be writing poems!" He turned on the projector and plugged in his laptop, pulling up a PowerPoint.

"But, before I teach you anything about them, I want you to try writing one, just on a sheet of paper. Here are three topics you can choose from," he said, flipping to the second slide. "It can be short, but write at least ten lines. You have twenty minutes - go!"

Frank stared at the words on the screen. He pursed his lips and mentally scolded himself for deciding to take this class. He'd rather be spilling hydrochloric acid on himself in chemistry right now than being forced to write fucking poetry.

He looked up and saw Mr. Way coming towards him. Frank pretended to be deep in thought, but Mr. Way stopped a row short of his, kneeling down beside Lindsey.

"Whatcha drawing?" he whispered.

Lindsey froze.

"Ooh it's space! Can I have it?" he asked.

Her eyes widened. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll put it away!" she pleaded, reaching for her binder.

Mr. Way stared at her, confused.

"Oh my god, you're not in trouble!" he exclaimed. "I just wanted to put it up on the wall. It's so pretty!"

She looked relieved and nodded quickly.

"When you're done, of course," he added. He stood up. "I love art so much. If any of you draw anything let me have it so I can put it up! I gotta cover these boring walls, and what better than with your artwork!" he squealed.

Frank stared at him, surprised. Mr. Way was the sweetest teacher he had ever had. He watched him hand Lindsey the roll of tape while trying to suppress a giant grin. It wasn't about the art - Frank couldn't draw for shit. But he admired how Mr. Way seemed so dedicated to keeping everyone happy. This semester might not be as bad as he had initially thought.

The bell rung, jolting him out of his thoughts. Frank looked down at his blank paper and anxiously bit his lip.

"Oh man. We took much more than twenty minutes but I'll just collect these from you tomorrow. I hope all of you have a great day!" Mr. Way called as the students emptied the classroom.

Frank stood by the navy blue lockers and waited. Time had passed by fast in first period - maybe geometry wouldn't be so bad either. Mr. Way's class had certainly surpassed his expectations.

"Sup," said Mikey, appearing beside him.

"Mikes!" Frank exclaimed, greeting his best friend. The only perk of math class was that they'd be together.

"Biology was the boringest shit," Mikey complained. "We have a quiz on Wednesday. What the fuck."

"Sorry, dude. I have bio next semester. I just came from fucking creative writing though," Frank replied.

Mikey stopped in his tracks. "Who do you have?" he asked.

"Mr. Way," Frank answered. "Why?"

Mikey tried to suppress a grin but broke into a full smile. "No reason," he lied, stepping forward again.

Frank followed behind, confused.

\-----

 

"Okay, does anyone want to share their poem first? I hate calling on people so I won't force anyone to, but if we have volunteers that would be great..." Mr. Way trailed off. The emo kid raised his hand. "Pete! Go ahead."

Pete stood up and cleared his throat. He paused for a second, then read from his paper.

_"Light that smoke, that one for giving up on me_

_And one just because they’ll kill you sooner than my expectations._

_To my favorite liar, to my favorite scar_

_I could have died with you._

_I hope you choke on those words, that kiss, that bottle, I confess._

_Now ask yourself, out on the insides, I said I loved you but I lied._

_Let's play this game called: when you catch fire_

_I wouldn't piss to put you out._

_Stop burning bridges, and drive off of them_

_So I can forget about you._

_I want to hate you half as much as I hate myself_

_But you know that I could crush you with my voice_ ," he finished.

Mr. Way was speechless for a few seconds, watching him with his mouth hanging open.

"Pete, that was amazing!" he breathed. He bit his lip. "I'm just wondering though, wasn't 'Winter' the topic you picked?"

Pete stared at him and sat down.

"Er, alright then. Okay I'll come around now and collect them from the rest of you. Meanwhile, you guys can read pages 14 and 15 in the textbook, which point out rhetorical devices in some famous poems."

Frank sighed and looked around. Hayley was reading intently and Gabe was furiously scribbling notes to throw at Pete. He flipped open the green textbook and pretended to read, staring at the pictures of Langston Hughes and Maya Angelou instead.

 "Frank," Mr. Way whispered from in front of him. Startled, Frank looked up. He breathed in sharply, realizing he was staring into his teacher's glimmering hazel eyes.

"Where's your poem?" he asked, confused.

"I didn't do it," Frank answered sheepishly.

"It wasn't too challenging or anything though, right?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"No, no it's not, I just... I'm not good at stuff like _poetry_ ," Frank confessed. Mr. Way thought for a second, then kneeled down beside his desk.

"What's your favorite Misfits song, Frank?" he asked.

Frank was taken aback. "Huh?"

"What's your favorite Misfits song?" he repeated.

"Um, Horror Business I think."

"That's a great song! Personally I love Astro Zombies. I take it you're a Ramones fan, too?" he asked, pointing to Frank's band shirt. He nodded.

"Do you ever play music?"

"Yeah. Mostly guitar but I play pretty much everything," Frank laughed.

"That's awesome! I admire people with that much musical talent," Mr. Way smiled. "Frank, would you prefer to write song lyrics instead? I have a feeling you'd be really good at it. And by the way, you're not confined to the topics I'll be giving - because of our curriculum I have to provide them but I totally understand if you'd rather write about something else."

Frank considered it. He had written hundreds of songs but never lyrics. It sounded much better than having to write a fucking haiku about the snow though.

"I can do that," Frank answered. "Thanks."

"No problem. I don't want you guys to suffer, I just want to improve your writing skills. We can pretend I forgot to grade this one," he winked. Mr. Way stood up and moved to Gabe's desk to collect his paper.

Frank took out his notebook and flipped past his math notes to a clean page. He stared out the window, trying to find some inspiration or come up with a good topic to write about. He watched a bee fly around the daisies for a few minutes. But there weren't any flowers surrounding the school. Frank blinked twice. That meant Mr. Way had planted them outside the window himself.

He heard the cabinet unlock, snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned around and saw Mr. Way pulling out a soft, bright red blanket. He carried it to the front and wrapped it gently around the shoulders of a girl who had fallen asleep with her head in her Calculus textbook. He hesitated for a second, making sure it wouldn't slip off, then stood in the front of the room.

"She seemed stressed," he spoke softly. "I think she was cramming for a test today. She deserves a little break. I get that sometimes you guys are tired or just not having a good day. As long as you turn in your work and you falling asleep isn't an everyday thing or a disturbance, I don't really mind," he stated.

_Holy fuck_ , Frank said to himself internally, _This is the best class I've ever had._

Mr. Way smiled, as if he was reading his thoughts. Frank gulped, noticing the way his soft lips curled up at the corners.

\------------

"Dude, Mr. Way is the best teacher ever. I wish you had that class too. You'd love him," Frank whispered to Mikey.

Mikey replied with the same weird grin he had given Frank the day before.

"What?" Frank asked. Mikey shook his head and dismissed it.

"My history teacher is totally hot. I'd bang her," he said instead.

Frank made a face. "How old is she?" he asked.

"In her 30's?" Mikey replied, unsure.

"Oh my god, you're so gross," he squealed, throwing his pencil at Mikey. Their math teacher looked up from her desk and scowled.

"You don't even know what she looks like," Mikey whispered. "And anyways, you're not into girls so how would you know?"

"Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I can't tell. And she's more than twice your fucking age, Mikes."

Mikey pouted, making a sad face. Frank burst out laughing, earning them another scowl from the teacher.

"Well you shouldn't be talking," Mikey muttered.

Frank shot him a confused look, unable to hear what he had said.

"I asked if you wanted to come over today at 6," Mikey lied.

Frank shook his head. "I'm going to the movies with Ray and Bob. Wanna come?"

"Nah, that's okay. How about this weekend? You can stay overnight."

Frank nodded. The teacher stood up and started going over the homework he never did. He pulled out his notebook instead and continued writing lines of metaphors and pretty words. It was all fluff, but it sounded good.

\-----

 

Frank came to class early the next morning. Ray and Bob had ditched school to go to a concert and Mikey always came right before the bell rang, so he'd have no one to talk to and there was no point of hanging out in the hallways. He was sure his creative writing class would be empty anyways.

Frank was wrong.

Lindsey sat there, drawing in a thick sketchbook, while Mr. Way sat at his desk grading papers. He was wearing black glasses. They looked so good on him, Frank wanted to scream.

"Hi, Frank," Mr. Way said cheerfully as he walked in.

"Hey," he replied casually, his heart pounding. "I, um, finished the assignment."

"Great!" Mr. Way exclaimed, setting his pen down and looking up at him. "Can I have it?"

Frank set his backpack down, sifting through the loose and crumpled papers in the back pocket until he found the page with his song scribbled on it. He handed it to his teacher.

" _Trying To Escape The Inevitable_ ," Mr. Way read. "Nice! Does it have to do with fate?"

"Not really," Frank replied. "I do believe in fate though."

"Me too," Mr. Way said. "Some people say it scares them, but I think it's kind of comforting."

"How come?" Frank asked.

"Well if you think about it, if fate is real then that means there's really no way for us to make the wrong decisions. Everything's gonna work out the way it's supposed to, regardless of what we do."

"Oh. So we don't have to worry about the future, since we can't impact it anyways," Frank added.

"I never thought about it like that. That's even more comforting," Mr. Way smiled.

Frank breathed out slowly. "Mr. Way?" he asked. "Do you think I could come for extra help after school or something? I don't really wanna keep avoiding writing poems. I was thinking maybe you could help me write some that don't, you know, suck."

Mr. Way laughed. "I'm sure they're not that bad. I'd love to help you though. Would this afternoon work?"

"Yeah," Frank said, half relieved and half feeling stupid for asking. He didn't give a shit about poems. But at least staying after school would let him have an extra hour with Mr. Way.

The early bell rang as he headed back to his seat, and kids began to fill the classroom. Gabe was already at his seat, texting so fast his thumbs looked like they were having mini seizures.

"He's cute, huh?"

"What?" Frank asked, turning towards Gabe.

"Beckett," he said, motioning towards a kid named William.

"Um, I... I don't -"

"Come on, man. Don't try and tell me you're straight, I can see right through that shit. It's pretty fucking obvious you're, like, in love with him," he said, pointing at Mr. Way.

Frank's eyes widened. "No, I'm not!" he protested.

"It's pretty fucking obvious," Hayley echoed. She was anxiously biting her nails. Frank scoffed.

"Shut up," he retorted. Hayley rolled her eyes.

While the others wrote limericks, Frank spent the class period writing lyrics to a new song and chewing on Twizzlers. Mr. Way had passed around a huge bag of candy - a reward, he claimed, for how great the poems were that the students had written.

Frank stared at the paper-white daisies outside and scanned the new artwork taped up on the walls every so often. He had written a decent chorus but kept getting stuck at the beginning of the verses. He was distracted. Frank tried to take his mind off of the fact that everyone in his class had probably realized he was hot for his _male teacher_. He used to think people just assumed he was straight.

He stopped to re-read over what he had written and had an idea. Suddenly, Hayley started crying, and it slipped from his mind.

Mr. Way rushed over towards her and bent down, asking her what was wrong in a hushed tone. She pushed him away a few times, then gave up and gave in to his questions.

"I- I have my chorus audition today," she cried. "Mr. Schechter changed my time to 9:00 in the morning. I don't even have time to warm up!"

"Hey, it's okay," he told her. "I'll be right back, wait just one second."

Mr. Way stood up and ran out of the classroom. Hayley stared at the door, puzzled. She exchanged a confused glance with the girl standing beside her.

A minute later, Mr. Way emerged in the doorway, panting slightly and proudly holding an acoustic guitar.

"Got this from the music room," he explained. "I suck at playing, but I can definitely help you sing."

"I can't warm up with a guitar," Hayley complained.

"Hey, it's better than nothing, right? Don't worry about it, just listen to my voice and try to match the pitch, okay?" Mr. Way asked. She nodded. "Alright, we'll start with C. Just hum along first."

Mr. Way played a few broken chords and hummed with Hayley. Their intonation was perfect, but something seemed flawed.

Hayley sighed in frustration as he messed up the same chord four times. Mr. Way looked uncomfortable and set the guitar down for a second, thinking to himself.

"Frank!" he called. Frank shot up out of his seat. Mr. Way handed him the guitar.

"I remember you said you play guitar, do you think you could, you know...?" Mr. Way asked quietly.

"Yeah, yeah," Frank assured him. Hands shaking, he took the guitar.

"Do you get the pattern? Or I could write down the chords I need you to play if that helps."

"That's fine, I catch on easily." Frank smiled nervously.

"Great. Okay, Hayley, forget about humming. We'll sing on the vowel 'ah'. Ready, Frank?"

"Yeah, I'll start on three. One, two, three-"

"Ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh..." Hayley and Mr. Way sang in perfect unison. The entire class stood in awe. Hayley had nothing to worry about; she would surely get into chorus.

Frank concentrated on the sweet sound of his teacher's voice as he strummed the broken chords.  Mr. Way sang beautifully, and just by listening to the melodic sounds he made while warming up the students knew he would have made a better chorus teacher than Mr. Schechter himself. Frank closed his eyes and listened to their pleasant voices as he continued to play.

\-----

 

Frank sat on the edge of his seat, waiting for the dismissal bell. He counted down the seconds in an attempt to put his mind at ease. It finally rang and he jumped up, then casually strolled to his creative writing class to avoid seeming eager. He waited exactly two minutes after he approached the door before he entered inside. Mr. Way was typing something, focusing intently on his computer.

"Mr. Way?" he asked.

His teacher's gaze shot up towards him.

"Hey! I'm just finishing something up. Give me one sec and I'll come over there. You can set your stuff down," he said.

"'Kay," Frank replied. "What are you working on?"

Mr. Way looked up at him again. "Oh, I'm just finalizing some things for a club. I'm now the advisor of the GSA," he smiled. Frank raised his eyebrows.

"Are you in it?" Mr. Way asked. Frank shook his head. "You should join! We're accepting of all LGBTQA+ students and allies are welcome as well. I think it's great!" he exclaimed.

"Me too," Frank replied, "I'm just -"

He halted and instantly regretted continuing to speak. He hadn't told anyone except Mikey before. But if his teacher was in charge of the GSA, he would surely be accepting. Frank inhaled slowly. _I have nothing to worry about_ , he told himself. He was only telling _one_ person anyway.

"I'm kinda afraid to show up," he admitted. "I don't know if I'm ready to let people know. I mean, my best friend already knows, but I'm scared the whole school will find out."

"Find out about what?"

"I'm gay," he confessed. He expected Mr. Way to be shocked, but his statement barely elicited a response.

"Hey," Mr. Way replied, "you don't have to worry about what others think." He stood up and walked over towards Frank's desk. "You are who you are and there's nothing to be ashamed of. Of course, whether or not you tell people is entirely up to you, but if their opinions are the only problem, I don't think you should allow others to hold you back from expressing who you are."

Frank was silent for a moment. "Thanks," he spoke softly.

"Anytime," Mr. Way responded.

"Can I ask you a question?" Frank asked nervously.

"Are you gonna ask me if I'm gay too?"

Frank didn't know how to respond. He gave a sheepish nod.

Mr. Way smiled slightly. "Nope," he replied. "I'm ace."

Frank's heart sank.

"...Asexual and aromantic," Mr. Way elaborated. Frank felt as if he had ripped open his heart and was now sprinkling salt into the wound.

_Stop_ , Frank told himself. Mr. Way was his _teacher_ and wouldn't have fallen for him anyway. Frank was being an ass when he should have been being supportive.

Mr. Way sensed that Frank didn't have the words to reply. "So you said you needed help with poetry?" he asked.

Frank didn't give a shit about poetry. He didn't even want to be there anymore. But he nodded politely and pulled out his notebook.

\-----

 

'Mikes u awake?' Frank typed into his phone, lying in his bed with his comforter pulled over his head. It was midnight and he couldn't sleep. He pressed send and waited for a few seconds.

'Yea', came a reply from Mikey.

'The guy I like just came out to me as asexual', Frank texted back. He didn't get a response for a few minutes. Then Mikey called him.

"Hey," he said, picking up.

"Frank, I hate to be blunt but I think you need to move on," Mikey answered.

Frank sighed. "You don't even know who he is. And I know I need to move on," he added.

"Frank, I've known you for ten years," Mikey stated.

"I don't get what that has to do with this..." Frank trailed off.

"Just... you're still coming over this weekend, right?"

"Um, yeah."

"Okay, good," he replied. Frank heard a click as Mikey ended the call.

_What the fuck_ , he thought. Mikey was so evasive.

'Hey u awake?' he texted to Bob and Ray. Frank drifted into sleep before he received a reply.

\-----

 

Frank drummed his fingers on the dashboard of the car as his dad drove him to Mikey's house. He was playing music from his phone, which was plugged in with an aux cable. He hummed along to the ending of the song. Astro Zombies played next. Frank skipped the song.

The car pulled up into Mikey's driveway. Frank looked up at the small, brick house. He took a breath, then stepped out of the black Toyota.

"Bye, Dad," he waved.

He walked to the entrance and knocked on the door twice, scratching at the chipping brown paint while he waited. Mikey opened the door after a few seconds.

"Dude, Nightmare Before Christmas is on. You love that movie! Come in!" he exclaimed.

"It's on?" Frank asked in disbelief. "It's not even near Christmas."

"It's Halloween?" Mikey suggested.

"Today is October 1st."

"Same thing," Mikey replied. Frank shrugged and followed him into the house, walking quickly on the cold tile that led to the kitchen. Mikey picked up two bowls of popcorn and handed Frank a third.

"Why three?" Frank asked.

"My brother's here," Mikey replied, stepping into the living room.

"Your- "

Frank's jaw dropped and the popcorn almost slipped out of his hands.

Mr. Way was sitting on the leather couch. In his underwear.

"What the fuck?!" he exclaimed.

Mr. Way looked up. "Hey, Frank!"

"I told you, my brother is here," Mikey smirked.

Frank was speechless.

"How did you not know?" Mikey laughed. "We have the same last name!"

"Lots of people have Way as a last name!" Frank yelled. Mikey shrugged.

Mr. Way was watching them with wide eyes and pursed lips. "Hey," he offered, "I didn't know you were Mikey's friend, either. He just told me today that he knows someone named Frank I have first period with."

Frank struggled to find the words to say. "Sorry, Mr. Way. I'm just really shocked," he apologized.

"Oh my god, call me Gerard," Mr. Way replied. "And it's okay. Come sit," he replied, patting the spot beside him.

Mikey, in the process of finding Pepsi, gave him a _go ahead_ nod. He sat beside his teacher, who smiled and placed his arm around Frank's shoulder while keeping his eyes fixated on the television screen. Frank could feel fireworks exploding in his stomach as he tried not to think about the warmth of Gerard's hand on his skin.

Mikey passed them each a can of soda and sat down beside them. Frank turned to him and gave him a look.

"What?" Mikey whispered.

' _You knew_?' he mouthed slowly.

Mikey nodded, trying to suppress a laugh.

Frank subtly flipped him off. ' _Does he know_?' Frank mouthed, motioning to Gerard.

Mikey shrugged. "Gee, did you know Frank had a thing for you?" he blurted.

Frank's jaw dropped. Gerard spit out his drink.

"Did you?" he repeated.

Gerard was turning red. "Well... yeah, but I wasn't gonna say anything."

Mikey turned to Frank. "There you go. And Gee doesn't care anyways.

Gerard nodded reassuringly. "It's totally okay," he said.

Frank gulped. "Mikey, could you, uh... um, I think I left something in the kitchen."

"'Kay," Mikey replied.

" _Mikey_ ," Frank repeated, glaring at his friend.

Gerard smiled knowingly. Frank pretended he didn't see.                                             

Mikey rolled his eyes and followed Frank to the kitchen. "What?" he asked.

"Did you not think it was important to mention that he was your fucking brother?!" Frank fumed.

Mikey sighed. "It's not my fault. You've known me for so long and you didn't even know who my brother was."

"He doesn't live with you and you _never_ talk about him." Mikey seemed tense all of a sudden. "And you knew I didn't know, you asshole."

Mikey didn't reply.

Frank was still angry, but sensed Mikey's discomfort and was hesitant to say anything else. "Are you... are you two not very close?" he asked quietly.

"He's just here while his apartment's getting renovated," Mikey scoffed. "And then he'll leave. And I won't get to be with him again for years. He used to live with my dad while I was with mom but now he has his own place and he can't blame our parents anymore. I love him but he's so fucking selfish, you know? He just fucking disappears and acts like its nothing. He didn't even tell me he was working at our school, I only knew when you told me you had him."

"Well he's there now, so he'll be with-"

"It's not the same, seeing him at school. I'm not even in his class. I suck at writing but I would have taken it anyways if I had known. And he's only here for two years. _Two years_. Then he'll move somewhere and I won't hear from him again. I don't even think he has a fucking cell phone, 'cause he never even bothers to contact anyone."

Frank hugged Mikey. "Go talk to him," he whispered.

"What am I supposed to say?" Mikey asked.

"Exactly what you just told me," Frank replied. Mikey nodded.

"Do you want me to be there? I could just say I was in the bathroom or something."

Mikey shook his head rapidly. "No, I need you there."

Frank led Mikey into the living room with his hand on Mikey's shoulder blade. Gerard looked up at them.

"Hey, Gerard? I'm sorry for being weird before. But Mikey's got something to say to you," Frank stated blatantly.

Gerard looked concerned. He reached for the remote and turned off the TV. "What's wrong, Mikes?" he asked softly.

Mikey glanced at Frank, then looked back at his brother. "I'm just... it just pisses me off that you're never around, Gee," he began. "I mean, how long are you gonna be here? A few days? The last time I saw you was at Christmas when I was _ten_. You didn't even tell me you moved back to Belleville, or that you were working at my fucking school!"

Gerard stood up. "I'm sorry, Mikey. I'm here now though, and I'll be there for-"

"Two years, yeah, mom told me. And then when will I see you again? At my fucking wedding? Would you even show up? Oh wait, I probably wouldn't even have a way to contact you and ask you anyways."

Gerard was biting his nails. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know you were..." He looked down at his feet, unable to look Mikey in the eye. "I'm going to New York for a while after I leave here. I'm planning to write and draw for a comic book, hopefully to be published." He was silent for a few seconds. "Come with me, Mikes."

"Wait, what?"

"You should come with me. It'll be your senior year and you're not even planning to go to college. But if you do, you'll still have lots of options. We'll have fun. And anyways, you have almost two whole years to decide."

Mikey laughed awkwardly. "I was just gonna ask you to get a phone you'd actually use or something."

Gerard smiled. "Well, I think my solution would be more interesting." Mikey nodded.

Frank stood and watched their exchange, unsure of whether to speak or pretend he wasn't there. Gerard sensed his discomfort and cleared his throat. "I'll be right back, I gotta use the bathroom," he said, excusing himself.

Mikey sank back down on the couch, deep in thought. Frank waited until Gerard was out of sight, then sat down beside him.

"Are you gonna go with him?" he asked.

"I think so," Mikey replied.

"I'm gonna miss you, man," Frank whispered.

"I feel like you'll miss _him_ more," Mikey teased.

"Stopp," Frank whined, burying his face in his hands. Mikey laughed and slung his arm around his friend's shoulder.

"We've still got two whole fucking years. We don't have to worry about it until we're 17. Now come on, we probably missed the whole movie," he said, reaching for the remote. He switched on the TV and leaned his head on Frank's shoulder.

Gerard, who had never really left the kitchen, crept back to the living room entrance quietly. He smiled upon seeing his brother sitting with Frank, their feet entangled and their heads resting upon each other, and silently tiptoed upstairs.

\-----

 

"It's super weird having to call you Mr. Way," Frank said, prying open a box of salmon pellets and sprinkling a few in Lola's fish tank. The pink axolotl swam around, eating the bits of food and looking up at him with what seemed to be a smile.

"Honestly, just call me by my first name. I couldn't give less of a shit," Gerard replied, grading fourth period's short stories. Frank laughed, closing the box and watching Lola swim. He had formed a habit of coming early to class to talk to Gerard. _Nothing weird_ , he constantly reassured himself, _I'm just here talking to my friend's brother_.

"Hey, you're coming to school on Friday, right?" Gerard asked nonchalantly.

"Uh, yeah I think so," Frank replied. "Why? What's on Friday?"

"Just asking. Friday's October 31st."

"Oh. Well yeah, I wasn't planning to stay home or anything."

"Good," Gerard stated, looking up at him. "We're having a Halloween party. I'll ask people to bring in food and I'll have Lindsey help me with decorations, since she's an artist too." He pointed to the detailed drawings plastered on the walls around the room. About half of them were surprisingly lifelike portraits of heavy metal band members while the rest included landscapes, animals, designs, and comic book characters. _And space_ , Frank noticed. Lindsey seemed to love drawing space. Some of the artwork seemed slightly sloppy and Frank knew right away it wasn't hers. He scanned the room, observing the beauty in each one of the pictures.

"What the fuck is this?!" Frank exclaimed, pointing to a ripped sheet of loose-leaf paper on the left wall.

Gerard laughed. "Well someone stuck it on there and it'd be rude to take it off. They were just expressing their opinions, I guess."

Frank snorted. It was a crappy stick figure drawing of Gerard with dicks in his mouth, with 'mr. way sucks cock' written at the bottom. "Wow, you're seriously the best teacher ever. I can't believe you left it up."

Gerard shrugged, looking down at his papers. "Well anyway, about the party, I'll also need people to bring plates, napkins, forks, and spoons but I don't think it'll be too much. I thought it would be pretty fun."

Frank nodded. "It'll be awesome. What should I bring?"

"Oh, you don't have to bring anything. Don't worry about it," Gerard assured him.

"Are you sure? It's not a problem," Frank said, confused.

"Nah, it's fine," Gerard replied. "I was just telling you, 'cause I wouldn't want you to stay home and miss out."

Frank opened his mouth to reply when the bell rang.

"Can you pass these out?" Gerard asked, handing him a stack of graded work. He nodded and accepted the papers, placing them on the student's desks.

\-----

 

Frank headed to Gerard's class early on the 31st, knowing that his help would be useful. But upon approaching the classroom, he saw the door was locked and it was pitch-dark inside. He peered in through the small window in the door. There was nobody inside. He shrugged and left to go hang out with Bob and Ray. Maybe Gerard was running late.

He ran up a flight of stairs and met his friends on the second floor where they loitered around the lockers every morning. Ray gasped and enveloped him in a huge hug, his six-foot body towering over Frank's.

"Dude, where have you been? I haven't seen you in forever!" he exclaimed.

"Frankie, is that you?" Bob asked, coming over to greet him. "Yeah, where the fuck do you go every morning?"

"I just hang out with Mikey," he lied.

"I thought he comes late," Ray said. "You should tell him to come up here with us! We haven't seen him in the longest time either." Bob nodded in agreement.

"Yeah I will. So how have you guys been?" Frank asked.

"Pretty good," Bob answered. "Hey, are you free tonight? You should come over and play Xbox. Ray fucking sucks and I'm tired of beating him at Halo." Ray didn't even attempt to protest.

Frank laughed. "Well I'd love to, but we might be going out for dinner or something tonight."

Bob stared at him. "For what? Do you actually celebrate Halloween?" he asked, confused.

Frank sighed.

The bell rang and Ray jumped up, startled. Bob laughed at him and pointed out the way his curly fro seemed to have bounced in the air.

"I gotta go, guys," Frank said. "I'll see you around."

"Bye!" Ray said.

"Come over on Saturday, instead," Bob yelled from across the hall. Frank gave him a thumbs up and continued walking. He rushed down the steps and into his creative writing classroom. It was still dark, but the door was wide open. Frank hesitated, then continued in to see what was going on.

He stepped inside.

"Happy birthday!" the class shouted. The lights flickered on and Frank gasped as he saw orange and black streamers, balloons, and cut-out pumpkins hanging on the walls around the room. Gerard was grinning and holding a huge chocolate cake. His whole desk was covered with cookies, chips, and soda that other kids had been assigned to bring.

"Happy birthday, Frank," Gerard said, setting down the cake on a nearby desk and giving him a hug.

"Thank you! I thought we were having a Halloween party!" Frank exclaimed, returning Gerard's embrace.

"It's both a Halloween party and a birthday party for you," he replied. "Come on, let's cut the cake. I got Mikey out of class too, he should be here any second now."

Frank followed Gerard to his desk, where he pulled out plates and plastic spoons, which he instructed Lindsey to pass out, and a lighter. He slowly lit each of the sixteen candles.

"You having a sweet sixteen, Frankie?" Gerard asked.

"This is my sweet sixteen," Frank replied quietly. Gerard smiled warmly and pushed the fully lit cake towards him.

"Make a wish," he said.

Frank felt an arm around him. He turned to see Mikey standing beside him.

"Happy birthday, dude!" he exclaimed. " _Now_ make your wish."

Frank grinned and shut his eyes. He wished for happiness and good luck, and extinguished all of the candles in one blow. The class cheered and Gerard handed him a silver knife, with which he cut the cake into pieces as Mikey placed one in each plate, handing them to the students.

"Is that everyone?" Frank asked.

"No," Mikey replied. "You forgot me, you dumbass."

Frank apologized and began to press the knife into the cake again but Mikey stopped him. "I'm kidding, you got everyone," he laughed. "The rest of it is yours." He motioned to the chunk of cake left, which was about four times the size of the slices he had been cutting.

"No, it's not. I didn't get everyone," Frank realized. He cut the large portion in half and went over to give a piece to Gerard, who was in the middle of a conversation with Hayley about chorus.

Gerard thanked him and he returned to the cake, eating it straight out of the box.

"What did you wish for?" Mikey asked, stuffing chocolate frosting into his mouth.

"I can't tell you," Frank replied. Mikey rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. I wished I'd have good luck," he confessed.

"Now it's not gonna come true," Mikey teased.

"Shut up," Frank retorted. "Yes, it will. I'm sure the birthday wish gods don't give a shit."

Mikey laughed and flinged icing at him.

\-----

 

Frank sat in Physics, waiting.

He and Mikey had made sure to pick all of the same courses for their junior year but still somehow ended up with only a science class together. He still hung out in Gerard's classroom, only now he'd stay there at lunch instead of mornings. He would never admit it, but he really missed his creative writing class. All of his schoolwork from last year had been thrown out at the very start of summer with the exception of his writing work, which he'd never get rid of.

He waited for Mikey to step inside the room and occupy the vacant seat beside him so he could tell him, in full detail, the way his favorite guitar broke last night. He wanted to ask Mikey what he thought the new Blink album would be like now that their guitarist was gone. He couldn't wait to tell him he had listened to the Anthrax album Mikey had recommended, and he fucking loved it.

Where the fuck was Mikey? He never skipped school, and as far as Frank knew he wasn't sick.

Frank felt a vibration on his palm. He looked down at his phone in his hand and turned it on, tapping on the notification for a new text message.

It was from Mikey.

'I'm so so sorry', Frank read, 'we left, g said the company and the writer he was gonna work with on his comic needed to meet him asap so we had to go and it would be easier for me to enroll to the high school if i went early anyways, i had him stop by your house but you had already left and it was too late to have him take me to school so i could find you i'm so sorry i didn't even get to say goodbye'

The phone slipped out of his hands.

Frank set his head down on his desk and cried.

\-----

 

"Frank, my amp's not working," Neil whined. He played a few dull-sounding chords on his black Squier Strat and sighed in frustration.

Frank rolled his eyes. "Did you plug it in?" he asked.

Neil's mouth was fixed in a wide 'O' as he bent down slowly to plug the small amp into the nearest outlet.

"Are we all ready now?" Frank asked dully.

John and Neil shouted happily in response.

"Cheer the fuck up, Frankie," Tim scolded. "It's our third show and look how many people are here." He gestured to the hundreds of kids in the audience. He pointed to his ear, telling Frank to listen to the loud clamor of the crowd. "This is what you've always wanted. We're gonna make it big, okay? So for one night, please at least pretend to not be miserable and depressed."

Frank scoffed and opened his mouth to retort, but stopped when he heard a boy shouting his name. Tim was right. This is what he'd been wanting for years, and their initial shows would be just a precursor to their great success. He knew they had something - not just amazing musical talent or lots of energy - but real potential and the perfect circumstances. Frank scanned the audience. He nodded and grinned widely at Tim.

He drank a sip of water, then set his water bottle down on the stage. Frank tapped the microphone to ensure it was working and took a deep breath.

"Hey everyone," he spoke. "I'm Frank and these are my friends, Neil, on guitar, John, on bass, and Tim, who plays the drums. We're in a little band called Pencey Prep. I wanna thank you all for coming out tonight to our show, and we hope you have fun."

He turned to look at Neil, who smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

"This first song is called 10 Rings," he said.

Neil played the intro and Tim joined in on drums.

" _Learn to live with decisions that you made. Learned things from the break that I can't forget_ ," Frank sang. Tim had begged him to write this song about his ex-girlfriend. Frank had agreed and now struggled to pour emotion into the song, which wasn't personal in the slightest way, since he was completely unable to relate to it. Frank didn't have anyone obsessing over him.

" _Stop calling my house_ ," he yelled, jumping twice. At least it was always fun to scream.

Frank tapped his foot, watching Tim bang on the drums with all of his energy. He had another girlfriend now, but no matter how much he tried to pretend he had moved on, it was evident from the passion in his drumming every time they played the song that he just couldn't forget her.

" _There's nothing to say, I won't answer the phone. We're over and done. Stop calling my house_!" he finished. Frank hummed along as his band mates played the ending of the song. The crowd cheered wildly as they finished. He waited for the applause to settle down, then stepped up to the mic.

"Thank you. This next one is called Trying To Escape The Inevitable."

Frank teared up as Neil strummed the beginning of the song. He pressed his eyelids shut, holding back the tears and the memories.

" _I have this reoccurring dream, where you make it hard for me to breathe. I gave you everything I could, I gave up everything I owned_ ," he sang with his eyes still closed. He inhaled slowly, trying to stop himself from choking up.

" _And I know I should run, and I know I should run, and I know I should run, and I know I should_ ," he screamed. A tear escaped from the corner of his eye and trickled down his cheek. Frank wiped it away quickly and opened his eyes, scanning the crowd's faces for any indication that they had seen him cry.

He watched teenagers jumping and singing along even though it was clear some of them didn't know the words. A girl stopped to kiss the dark-haired boy with his hands around her waist. Frank's eyes skimmed past faces conveying every emotion he had ever known. He saw a few kids crying along with him. Frank noticed a fiery redhead in the front, standing in the left corner of the audience, watching him. He casually walked towards that side of the stage as he continued singing, and realized it was a man, whose eyes sparkled in the light as he stood, watching Frank with a strangely familiar smile.

A girl screaming beside him took a photo of the band and the flash illuminated his pale face. Frank gasped and nearly dropped his microphone.

Gerard winced at the sudden bright light and calmly looked up at Frank again, sure that he had been recognized. He mouthed the words, realizing Frank had forgotten to sing the last verse.

Neil tapped Frank from behind and he turned around, wide-eyed. He resumed singing but the expression of shock remained on his face throughout the night.

"We have to cut it short," Frank whispered to John as Neil finished the song.

"What? Why?!" John exclaimed.

"Because I fucking said we do. Tell Neil we're playing Yesterday next and then we're ending the show."

John tried to protest but Frank walked away from him, introducing the next song to the audience. He sang wholeheartedly but a little too fast as his heart pounded in his chest so loudly he couldn't hear his own voice, much less the screams of the audience.

" _I'm reliving yesterday_ ," he sang, jumping off the stage while the rest of Pencey Prep stood confused and continued playing. Frank pushed his way through the cheering crowd until he reached the left side. He grabbed Gerard's thin wrist and pulled him backstage.

Frank let go of his arm and stared at him, unsure where to begin.

"Hey, Frank," Gerard said awkwardly.

"Hey?!" Frank exclaimed. "You disappeared with my best friend three and a half years ago and all you have to say is _hey_?!"

"I'm sorry," Gerard apologized, "I -"

"Fuck it, I don't care," Frank declared excitedly. "I can't believe I'm fucking seeing you again! And your hair is red!" he observed, reaching up to brush his fingers through Gerard's hair. Gerard seemed uncomfortable.

"Sorry. Can I?" Frank asked, his hand suspended in the air. Gerard shrugged.

"It looks so good! So how have you been?" he asked.

"Thank you. Pretty good. My comic got published and I'm now working on a sequel. It's called _The Umbrella Academy_. How are things in Jersey? I see you've got a pretty successful band," Gerard replied.

"That's awesome! I have to read it, is it online? I'll buy it as soon as I get home. And yeah I'd say we're doing pretty well! Although, honestly you're a better singer than I am," Frank admitted.

"Don't say that, you have an incredible voice! Actually, I'm thinking about forming a band as well. I honestly believe it's important to try and make this world a better place, you know? And simply drawing isn't satisfying me, so I'm thinking about going back to music. Mikey's picked up on bass. He came up with the name My Chemical Romance."

Frank gasped. "Damn, that's a really good name. I wish I'd thought of that. Let me know if you need another guitar player," he joked. "Are you staying in Jersey? And by the way, where _is_ Mikey?"

Gerard's eyes widened. "I don't know. He was just with me. Fuck, where did he go?” he asked, peering outside and scanning the audience.

Frank stepped out and pointed out a commotion in the back of the crowd. "Is that him fighting the security guard?" he asked.

Gerard laughed. "Shit, I think so. He was trying to get backstage before the show started but they wouldn't let him in. Guess he couldn't wait to meet you. Don't worry about him, he'll find his way to us." He pulled Frank backstage again by the arm.

"And yeah, we are staying in Jersey now. We've got a bigger apartment but we're in Kearny. It's not too far from here, though." He brushed a few strands of his hair away from his face.

Frank stared at him. "Are you wearing eyeliner?" he asked.

Gerard blushed. "Just a little bit. Is it weird?"

"No, no, it looks really good. _You_ look really fucking good." Frank said.

"Thanks," Gerard replied softly.

"Can I kiss you?" he blurted. Gerard tensed up. "Just, uh, a platonic friend kiss," Frank stuttered.

Gerard laughed at him. "Yeah, yeah, come here," he said, placing his hand delicately on the side of Frank's chin and leaning in. He pressed his soft lips gently against Frank's, whose heartbeat sped up and cheeks flushed red.

Frank lingered in the moment, letting it all sink in. Gerard tasted so good and his kiss satisfied Frank, who had been craving him for years since he had disappeared from his life.

Out of nowhere, Mikey screamed. Gerard waited a few seconds, then pulled back. Frank's eyelids fluttered open.

"It's a _platonic friend kiss_ , Mikey," Gerard said, suppressing a laugh.

Mikey was staring at Frank, looking disheveled. His soft brown hair was a mess and his Radiohead t-shirt had ripped from the side. He looked like he had been punched in the jaw.

Frank ran up and hugged him tight. "That's what you get for leaving me," he joked. Mikey wrapped his arms around him tightly, unable to reply. 

After a few minutes, Frank pulled away. "You're coming over to my house today and you're gonna tell me everything," he declared. Mikey nodded. He turned to Gerard. "There's a bar down the street. Can I buy you a drink?" he asked.

"A platonic friend drink?" Gerard joked.

"Shut up," Frank whined, pushing him playfully. "Let's go."


End file.
